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"And; indade," said Mary to the groceryman, "nobody cud help
laughin' at the quare little ways of him--and his ould-fashioned
sayin's! Didn't he come into my kitchen the noight the new
Prisident was nominated and shtand afore the fire, lookin' loike
a pictur', wid his hands in his shmall pockets, an' his innocent
bit of a face as sayrious as a jedge? An' sez he to me: `Mary,'
sez he, `I'm very much int'rusted in the 'lection,' sez he. `I'm
a 'publican, an' so is Dearest. Are you a 'publican, Mary?'
`Sorra a bit,' sez I; `I'm the bist o' dimmycrats!' An' he looks
up at me wid a look that ud go to yer heart, an' sez he: `Mary,'
sez he, `the country will go to ruin.' An' nivver a day since
thin has he let go by widout argyin' wid me to change me
polytics."
Mary was very fond of him, and very proud of him, too. She had
been with his mother ever since he was born; and, after his
father's death, had been cook and housemaid and nurse and
everything else. She was proud of his graceful, strong little
body and his pretty manners, and especially proud of the bright
curly hair which waved over his forehead and fell in charming
love-locks on his shoulders. She was willing to work early and
late to help his mamma make his small suits and keep them in
order.
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